


'Cause the night is, baby, when all the demons come out

by brokenbeauty



Category: Free!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Honeymoon, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 20:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenbeauty/pseuds/brokenbeauty
Summary: It's always been hit-or-miss for them--or maybe it's just that they've been running from their issues too successfully.





	'Cause the night is, baby, when all the demons come out

**Author's Note:**

> OMF IT'S ACTUALLY BEEN FOUR YEARS. FOUR YEARS I'VE WRITTEN FOR THIS IDIOT'S BIRTHDAY. 
> 
> so
> 
> we all know what really went down in the honeymoon scene of s2e12, and if you don't, well aren't you in for the best surprise of your life huehuehuehuehuehue
> 
> thank me later, kids
> 
> OKAY NO SORRY I'M JOKING PLEASE COME BACK 
> 
> hbd rin

_Dammit._

_Dammit, dammit, dammit._

Haruka has never been one for swearing much, but every expletive he knows is currently running a litany in his head, twisting over and under and back again through the convoluted mess in his head. He’s angry—not angry, not exasperated, not decidedly anything, and that uncertainty only adds to the resultant irritation. He’s always known his mind, he thinks—maybe even prided himself on the lack of complication in his thought process—and he curses this past year, too, for sending that stronghold teetering on its foundation. Like the quivering of shattered glass the tension in the air stands as he lies in bed, in _the same bed as Rin,_ warmed by the body heat of the only ascertainable source of all his problems.

 

The day has been—it’s been one of the strangest Haruka has ever experienced—which is not saying much, given his generally uninteresting yardstick, but he’s pretty sure being whisked off to a foreign country without notice would figure as unprecedented by anyone’s standards. It’s not only that, though. Being so up close and personal with figments of Rin’s past had made him a kind of uncomfortable his own limited vocabulary couldn’t even begin to describe. It’s never pleasant, he’s realizing, to have illusions shattered, even less so to be made to introspect, and it’s that, and more—this panorama of everything he’d missed all the years that slipped by like beads on a string, so stuck in his own perception of betrayal, of not talking to Rin, or writing to Rin, blind to anything else.

 

He wants to bury his head in his hands, drown out everything else. The epiphany that somewhere inside him, he’s always believed that Rin had had it easy, easier than him left to agonize over and ponder the whys and the hows, haunts him, has haunted him ever since they’d gone to that godforsaken beach and Rin’s eyes had looked to something Haruka couldn’t see. Limpid with something Haruka couldn’t reach as he’d talked as someone would talk of an old flame. Haruka—he’s used to being on the outside looking in, but that had been—something else altogether. And since he couldn’t place it—again—he’d disguised with an annoyance not altogether feigned. Not interested, uncaring, all the labels he’s always stuck by, they’d made life easier for him. But—and he’s only just realizing this, too—they’ve left him with a void that begs the question of whether he’d really ever had the pulse of what he was feeling, or if he only thought it because he never felt anything much at all. Another illusion, another obliteration.

 

He’d never thought Rin would apologize. Penitence and Rin—they’ve always been poles apart, and it was whiplash to Haruka, seeing it. The Rin he knew would never—but has it really been that long? Has that Rin Haruka knew really walked so far along the path away from him? It’d left him fumbling for words then, it’s left him grasping for something appropriate to feel now—and that’s the only thing that hasn’t changed between them. And so, more strikingly by connection, where does that flux leave himself?

 

_Has he really_

_Not progressed at all?_

It’d never bothered him before. He’d always figured he’d get by, one way or another. It’d only been when—and he can still hear Rin’s voice, raised, lethal as a gunshot, _don’t you have a dream—_ when the bruising hold on his shoulders had blazed a trail right into something dormant in him, that he’d gotten a glimpse of it. Where it had been not just getting by like a match into water, like _oh._

_So this is emotion._

He’s had people care for him. He’s cared for people, too, he thinks. As far as caring goes for someone like him, that is. But Rin—Rin is a conundrum, making Haruka feel by turns anxious, irritated and—hungry, even, when he sees the easy camaraderie between him and his homestay parents, for lack of something like that to call his own. Does he care for Rin? Does Rin, in turn, care for him? They’re all questions that loom like apparitions, ready to jump out at him from the shadows. He just doesn’t know, but all in all, he doesn’t like one bit the idea of a world where Rin is his only anchor. He’s passive, not helpless—but it’s been a reinforcement of the latter all day, and some part of him had been looking forward to the night, time away from Rin and in his own comfortable space to ponder over—or, alternatively, escape from—it all.

 

But here they are.

 

He’s never—done so many things he’s done in the span of this past month. Unbidden, the vision of Makoto’s face, the emotion dancing in the usually tranquil green eyes and how Haruka hadn’t even stopped to listen, swims into focus. It hurts like the phantom pain of a lost limb, and Haruka smothers his sudden gasp into the pillow. He doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t even know what he’ll do without Makoto, and he clenches his eyes shut against the ocean of regret—so many of them—that suddenly lurches in his chest. Forcibly, he evens his breathing out, hoping sleep will claim his exhausted senses before—

 

“Haru?”

 

His eyes fly open before he’s had time to think about it. For a moment, he considers pretending to be asleep, but the stiffening of his posture must have given him away, because Rin keeps talking.

 

“I told you I’ve always admired you, right?”

 

Haruka wants to shake him, then, because _of course_ and how could he forget those words, so uncharacteristic of, once again, the Rin he knew—but he’s quickly finding out that the Rin he knew is nothing but a mirage of fireshine and shadow now, born of memory and instinct. And in his place is this—this _man,_ all at once so distinct and yet so painfully evocative of everything he remembers. He doesn’t know what to think of it, what to make of this heat suddenly rising in his cheeks at it, but he’s not given the opportunity to, because Rin is speaking again, voice quiet and full of a meaning Haruka can’t understand, only feel.

 

“You might not remember it, but I still remember the day I first met you.” Haruka’s not sure it’s possible at this point, but his body tenses even further, a little bit at the air which is suddenly heavy around them, but mostly because that simple sentence has opened the floodgates in his mind of the folder marked _Rin_ and in bold red lettering _do not open._ That elation of a worthy adversary, the sparking electric buzz in the water he’d first and only felt when he’d shared it with Rin, young as they both were, all of it comes surging up, and his throat is suddenly tight with a million unspoken sentiments. “To be honest, it had never occurred to me that I could lose to someone.”

 

Haruka hides a smile into the darkness, because there it is, that flash of Rin’s past self, that childish competitiveness he could never quite grow out of—that Haruka doesn’t want him to grow out of, he’s beginning to think. That maybe it’s that bone of contention which makes them who they are—something by turns painful and exhilarating, as hard to contain as the ebb and flow of tide.

 

“But any frustration I felt vanished when I thought that there was someone more amazing than me, that I wanted to be able to swim like him.”

 

 _Amazing._ Haruka’s breath catches on that word. He’s been called it before one too many times, and it’s caused him nothing but discomfort and the weight of frustrated expectation. But to hear Rin say it—openly, not a trace of hesitation or shyness—he repeats it over and over to himself. _Amazing amazing amazing._ His fists, he finds, are suddenly clenched, body coiled tight as a tripwire while he fights the urge to react, to just—turn over and respond to Rin in kind. Because who the hell is he kidding, he’s always thought Rin amazing, too, more than amazing. Like someone in the bland schema of his quotidian that doesn’t quite fit. He doesn’t know what to do, really, like always with Rin, so he settles for waiting for him to continue and hoping that the warm feeling in his chest and cheeks hasn’t spilled out to anything tangible.

 

“That’s why it’s hard for me when you’re not always there ahead of me, showing me what path I should take.” And, really, if Haruka had thought the air was tense before, it’s practically electric now, with Rin’s voice laving it over like running water. Anyone who isn’t—well, Haruka, would think his speech to be remarkably put-together, calm even. But it’s him and it’s Rin, and somehow they always know, with each other. And if instinct tells Haruka there’s an undercurrent to Rin’s words, there probably is.

 

Something in Haruka’s chest hurts with the fullness of it—his heart beats strangely and he almost thinks Rin can hear it like this. Because he’s talking, actually admitting these things out loud instead of sublimating them into tears or disproportionate anger. And if he knows to do this, then he must, must know how it’s affecting Haruka. He can’t be oblivious to the way Haruka wants to turn around and tell him to shut up, that he can’t be a guide to what he doesn’t know himself—and at the same time, he wants—

 

“Without you, I have nothing to aim for, you know?”

 

Haruka’s heart stops. He doesn’t know if Rin understands the propensity of what he’s just said. His mind blanks. And somehow, suddenly, the word _anchor_ ceases to be just a tiresome burden to him. Before he can stop himself, the words are out.

 

“I remember it too. The tournament.” It’s a simple admission, maybe inadequate after all Rin’s said, but it’s all he can trust himself to say in the threshold of _safe._ It’s in his characteristic taciturn way, too, but somehow he doesn’t want to force the words back down, and Rin catches onto it, the rift in the ice. He turns, and for one frozen moment of horrified anticipation Haruka thinks he’s going to hug him. But he just shifts so he’s facing the ceiling, laughs softly.

 

“Do you remember the freestyle race we swam during the tournament this spring, when we tied and set a new tournament record together?” And again, it’s an inane question. Because it’s nigh impossible for Haruka to forget, not unless he barges into the corner of his mind reserved for precious things and obliterates the entirety of it. He doesn’t know how to begin putting this into words, but it’s simple enough to mutter out a _yeah_ into the sheets. It’s a poor response at best, but it seems Rin reads something from his end of the silence, because he doesn’t stop talking. “I was testing you then. I wanted to see if that was really the farthest you could go.”

 

And really, hasn’t their relationship been so much of that, Haruka wants to ask. To push and push _and push_ the other to—snap, he used to think, but with this Rin, this Haruka, maybe it’s like Rin has said. Go farther, be better, swim faster. He’s thinking a lot of things he hasn’t thought before, like maybe Rin’s right and he’s wrong for once, like maybe the world doesn’t exist in one dimension that is his.

 

“And when I sensed you coming up from behind me, I knew for sure.” The fervency in Rin’s voice is rising now, palpable in the still air around them. “That you were definitely going to enter the same world as me.”

 

It’s absolutely silent in the little room apart from the thud of Haruka’s heart, the blood pounding in his ears. It’s all painfully obvious to him now, that he’s been blind, ungrateful, selfish—everything else he can think to add on to that. Because Rin—Rin’s believed in him when neither of them knew it, believes in him now, and it’s about time Haruka found a little belief of his own. But all he can do is lie frozen on his side, Rin’s body burning like a furnace beside him, making him feel suddenly hot in the sharp chill of the Australian winter. Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, Rin inches closer, just the barest brush of their bodies as his voice goes very tender, soft like a whisper.

 

“Hey, Haru. During that race, didn’t you feel something, too?”

 

Rin—he doesn’t need to say it, what he’s insinuating under cover of darkness and his ambiguous wording, because if Haruka was unsure of just what this weight in the air meant before, the way his entire body thrills at their little brush of contact leaves him in no doubt now. They’ve spent so long walking circles around each other. And here Rin is coming on to him, _Rin is coming on to him._ And all the almosts and near misses and second-guessings—he balls his fists. There’s so much—so _much._

 

So slow he could be measuring out each minutiae of the action, he turns around. The ceiling flashes into view, then, and he grits his teeth when he’s finally on his other side, facing Rin. This one answer, he knows, he can’t trust to words alone. Rin stiffens for a moment, and Haruka can hear his breath hitch before he, wordlessly, turns over, too, so that he’s occupying the entirety of Haruka’s field of vision, eyes dark and a wry little smile playing at his lips. Up so close, Haruka can count each of Rin’s lashes, the tiny beauty marks on his cheekbones, and he’s so preoccupied at the unexpected attractiveness that the remaining space between them vanishes unnoticed. Rin shifts even closer, Haruka leans in and—oh.

 

_So this is emotion._

The brush of their lips is chaste, once, twice more before they come to press up against each other. It’s—Haruka’s never experienced anything like it before, but he’s pretty sure that something simple as that shouldn’t have his skin heating up where pinpricks of blood rise under the surface of it, nor make his heart feel like fight-or-flight. When they pull away, when Haruka opens his eyes—when had he shut them?—he finds Rin already looking at him with something inscrutable in his expresssion.

 

“What,” he mutters, averting his gaze somewhere off to the right for a split second before Rin’s hands cups his chin and guides him back into the deadlock of their gazes.

 

“That’s your answer?” he sounds suddenly as quietly fervent as he had done before, gaze burning into Haruka—and he isn’t going to back down from this now. There’s no panic, no misgiving—just this muted sort of quiet heat charging the atmosphere. And he knows this to be a sure thing simply because it’s not a sure thing. The world knew it when they were two immature, stubborn idiots—but the sweetness of it now that it’s seasoned with maturity, makes up for lost time, Haruka thinks. So he looks Rin right back in the eye, seals his fate.

 

“That’s my answer.”

 

For a minute, Rin just stares at him like—like he’s never seen him before. But before Haruka can look away again, he’s surging forward, grip on his chin tightening as he presses their lips together again, this time with more intention. Haruka’s head is rapidly fogging up as he wonders whether it’s something Australian, something he’s learnt to do here—but then his mouth opens in a gasp and Rin’s licking inside it and he decides it doesn’t matter. Nothing could be truer, more right in this moment and he lets himself be swept along, free hand finding its way into Rin’s hair, tugging a bit to elicit a low _mmm_ into his mouth—there’s so much heat between them now, Rin always burns a little hot anyway but Haruka knows it’s not just him right now, his own body responding in kind to Rin’s pull.

 

They’re both breathing hard when they pull away this time, and Haruka finds his gaze dropping to Rin’s lips, glistening and just a little bit redder than usual. It sends a shiver down his spine, and, like in a daze, he makes to claim them again before Rin stops him with a hand stroking along his face.

 

“Haru,” he says, almost pained. “If you don’t stop now—I don’t know where this’ll go.”

 

Haruka sucks in a breath. He hadn’t considered—hadn’t ever thought that they could do _that._ Stupid of him in retrospect, buttwo guys—or with anyone for that matter, it’s weird no matter how you look at it for him, at least. But this isn’t—it’s Rin. And somehow, the idea of it with Rin, when he thinks of it, is just—not disgusting or abhorrent or anything but natural. The decision, it comes to him in a blinding flash, isn’t one he has to make right here. It’s one he’d made a long, long time ago. Because really, there’s only ever one person in the world who’s shown him that sight he’d never seen before. And only ever one person he’s wanted to see it with.

 

“Rin—,” he begins, then stops short. Words, for him, are immaterial. And there’s no way in hell he’ll ever find enough to say all of this. So he just acts. Throws caution to the winds. Ignores Rin’s warning hand on his cheek and seeks out his lips, parting them with his own. The slick slide of their tongues together makes— _noises_ which send Haruka’s pulse thrumming under his skin, his breathing choppy and fragmented. It’s like that for a long moment, Rin slowly melting under the contact—and then Haruka’s on his back, looking up into Rin’s burning eyes, Rin’s jaw clenched tight, arms effectively caging him in.

 

“Don’t fucking blame me if you can’t walk tomorrow, Haru.”

 

Haruka is hard-pressed to repress the shudder than goes through him at Rin’s words, at the way Rin says his name, low and dangerous. But he raises an eyebrow at him, knows that something inside Rin will rise to the challenge—and he’s right. He’s so, so right when all he can do is get out a surprised interjection as he’s pressed into the mattress before Rin is kissing him, kissing him like he’s hungry for it while he ruts his hips down into Haruka’s once, experimentally. And Haruka’s been aware of—that in the background all this while, but with the hard ridge of Rin’s arousal pressing up into his own now, he’s _aware_ of it, and suddenly, it’s like he can’t stop. He can’t stop himself from moaning, and he can’t stop his hips from twitching back up against the friction. Rin smirks—he can feel him doing it into the kiss, and he channels his irritation into retribution. Buries his hands into Rin’s hair and pulls hard, rocks his hips up again just to hear Rin stifle a groan.

 

“Don’t play dirty,” Rin grits out, ever the hypocrite, and Haruka open his mouth to tell him just that, but then Rin’s hand finds its way under the drawstring of his sweats and all that comes out is a low hiss. It’s a bit dry, the friction, but Haruka’s hips buck up into it nonetheless—and when Rin removes his hand to lick over it, the blood rushes to his head so fast it makes him dizzy. He’s thankful he’s lying down like he’s never been thankful for anything else before, especially when Rin’s hand returns to stroking him and he joins their mouths again to keep in the embarrassing noises he’s making.

 

“Feels good?” It would be a sympathetic question except for the way Rin murmurs it into his ear, voice honeyed and dripping seduction like he _knows._ And Haruka’s reached his breaking point.

 

“Bastard…,” he grits out, blindly reaching for the waistband of Rin’s own pants and grasping the fullness of his cock from under it. And it’s worth the effort for the way the pace of Rin’s hand falters on his own cock, the way his head slumps down on the pillow next to him as he groans.

 

“Haru—,” he kisses at his neck, slides his other hand up under his t-shirt to thumb at his nipples, making his back arch. “You don’t have to.”

 

Haruka rolls his eyes even though he knows Rin can’t see, and speeds up the movements of his hand, moistening it with the precome that is steadily leaking from the tip, spreading it around. “You were saying?”

 

“Fuck _,”_ Rin moans out, biting down on the soft skin at the juncture of Haruka’s neck and shoulder in retaliation, sending a spark of electricity to the heat pooling in his belly. “You’re so unfair.”

 

“I’m unfair?” Haruka can’t fight the heat in his voice anymore, any attempts at a mild intonation thrown out the window as he twists his wrist on the upstroke to watch Rin’s entire body shudder as he stills Haruka’s hand with a bruising grip on his wrist after he does it again.

 

“ _Enough.”_

_Can’t take more?_ Haruka wants to ask, wants to set the smoldering embers in Rin’s eyes ablaze, but then Rin is pulling Haruka’s shirt over his head, then his own, and looking at his body in a way that makes him feel even barer than he is. Down his eyes travel like a caress, making Haruka’s skin heat under the phantom touch—and it’s worse when he rejoins the trail of his gaze with his lips, kissing lower, lower, mouth and tongue working at his nipples as he slides his pants down over the jut of his hips, his cock, until he’s completely exposed. Rin kicks the blanket off of them, and Haruka can’t even find it in himself to care at the cold air because Rin’s on him, Rin’s going to be _inside_ him, and Rin chooses that moment to graze his teeth over a pebbled nipple and all he can think of is the heat of his body and his mouth. He’s moaning, must have been, because there’s no resistance when Rin’s fingers nudge at the seam of his mouth. He sucks them in on instinct, tongue flicking over them in ways he didn’t even know he was capable of, and Rin makes a low noise into his skin, trailing his hand down from where it had been caressing Haruka’s side to push his legs apart.

 

“I’m gonna fuck you now, Haru.” The words are deceptively gentle, belied only by Rin’s fingers digging bruises into the inside of his thigh—and yet they pour into Haruka’s insides like something molten, burning him from the inside out. All he can do is nod, then, as fervent as Rin ever was, and he’s only given till that little movement before Rin’s fingers are gone from his mouth, only to push at his entrance as Rin lifts himself back up so that their noses are brushing, scrutinizing Haruka’s face. It’s such a foreign sensation that it forces a gasp past his lips despite himself, skin prickling into goosebumps. When Rin slides one long, callused finger into him, Haruka can’t help another catch in his breath, the flutter of his lashes. It’s weird—doesn’t feel like anything he’s ever felt before, but the anticipation laden in it has him pressing down tight against the breach. Rin makes an almost frustrated sound, licking at the shell of Haruka’s ear before breathing into it. “You’re tight, so fucking—I need you to relax a bit for me.”

 

Rin’s finger jostles a tiny bit as he trails sucking kisses, excruciatingly slow, across Haruka’s throat, and Haruka makes a soft noise lost somewhere between the shudder wracking his body and Rin’s lips as he silences him with the heat of his mouth and the press of his tongue. His other hand, rubbing soothing circles over his thigh, suddenly grips hard, hard enough to hurt as he moves his finger with intent, curls it a bit and—

 

“Ahhh—!” Heat jolts up Haruka’s spine as he throws his head back, breaking the kiss to make a sound that seems obscenely loud in the still air of the room. Rin’s looking at him with a kind of dark focus which is almost frightening in its intensity as he does it again, and Haruka’s entire body jerks.

 

“Here?” And damn him, he _knows,_ even with Haruka’s lack of response, as he adds another finger, driving it straight into that spot which makes his vision short out. Haruka’s so—he’s slowly going insane with the assault on his senses, and he needs—he needs more. All of it. He can’t think, can’t judge what is safe to be said anymore. So when Rin scissors his fingers, he forces his eyes open, doesn’t hold back the broken keen that’s straining against the confines of his throat.

 

“Please, Rin.”

 

The reaction is instantaneous. The movement of Rin’s fingers inside him stills completely for a second before he drives back in with a force that sends Haruka sliding back a little. He’s another finger in, then, biting hard at Haruka’s clavicle, muttering out nonsense against the forming bruise. “Yeah, Haru, just let me—let me—”

 

It’s all a dizzying blur to Haruka now, a fever dream—Rin’s mouth has found its way back to his nipples as he moves his fingers faster, faster—the slick sounds echoing through the room, a background track that’s only feeding the flames licking at the base of his spine. And then it’s all gone, the stretch of Rin’s fingers giving way to an aching emptiness and a blunt pressure at his entrance—and this is it. Haruka holds his breath as Rin raises his head to look him in the eye, something unspoken and yet more concrete than anything he could ever voice passing its silent way between them as Rin presses his hips forward, because this is it. All of Rin.

 

Haruka bites his lip as he fights to keep his eyes from fluttering shut, but something soft and wrecked trembles out of him all the same at the burning stretch as Rin sheathes himself fully inside of him. He’s breathing hard and his jaw is set with the restraint of it as he waits for Haruka to adjust for a long, agonizing moment before he speaks, voice shaking. “Fuck, Haru—please, can I move?”

 

Haruka’s whole body is drawn taut, and he knows it’s not going to take long for him to break like this, where he can feel the reverberations of each throb of Rin’s pulse where they’re joined—but the prospect doesn’t scare him. Not anymore. And so he lets his arms snake around Rin’s back, nails digging in as he braces himself. “Yes. Rin, yes.”

 

Rin fucks like he swims—deliberate, brutal, completely single-minded. It doesn’t take them long to find a rhythm, the driving of Rin’s cock into Haruka harder and harder after the first few tentative thrusts, like he’s looking for Haruka’s limit and isn’t afraid to push it. Haruka is torn between clenching his eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation and just— _watching_ Rin’s tether fray and snap, licking up the droplets of sweat beading on his skin, but he’s not given the space to think about it, the low groans Rin makes every time Haruka tightens around him and the constant friction of his thrusts crowding out everything else. He’s left to drag his nails down Rin’s back at the little moans punched out of him at every snap of his hips, tears forming at the corners of his eyes when it gets too much. And Rin is still looking straight at him, eyes fogged up with arousal. Even as he hitches one of Haruka’s legs up over his shoulder to bend him double, even as Haruka cries out from how _good_ it is, his gaze never wavers. It’d make Haruka uncomfortable if he didn’t know exactly what it is—how absolutely beautiful Rin looks to him right now, too.

 

“Ah, Rin, Rin, _Rin—,”_ he chants, he knows he’s moaning nonsense syllables, but it’s all subconscious at this point—he’s saying all he’s thinking, and all he’s thinking is that the boy above him is beautiful—that he wants more of him, more of that delicious pleasure gathering in the pit of his stomach every time the pressure splitting him open brushes up against that spot. Rin groans long and low into Haruka’s ear at it, hips stuttering.

 

“Haru—fuck, don’t—don’t just say my name like that, _shit—,”_ he gets out between thrusts, swiveling his hips in a way that makes Haruka’s back arch right up off the bed—buries his face in Haruka’s neck, sucking a dark-edged bruise into the hollow of his throat, drinking in the choked-off moan that reverberates within it before he pulls back, eyes feverish and pinning the other down more effectively than if he’s used brute force. “Or I don’t know what I’ll do.”

 

And really, who ever said that it was only Rin who could test Haruka?

 

“What’ll you— _ah—_ do?” Haruka matches his gaze with his own, unflinching, lets the heat thrumming in his body show on his face as he bucks his hips up to meet Rin thrust for thrust. “Show me, _Rin.”_

He lets his voice linger over the last syllable, drawing it out and tasting it on his tongue like something sweet—and it’s almost tangible, clear as shattering glass as the last of Rin’s restraint—and sanity therewith—snaps, slips through his fingers like running sand. A low growl is his only warning before Rin pulls out, almost all the way, and _snaps_ his hips back in. Deep. Haruka can barely think to comprehend how loud his answering moan is, before Rin does it again. It’s painful, almost, how deep he can get like this, and the knife-edge of it somewhere on the wrong side of pleasurable makes him dig his nails into Rin’s skin, hiss out a _more_ into his ear. And Rin gives. Again and again, that same brutal pace at the same unforgiving angle, and Haruka thinks he’ll go insane from how rapidly he’s hurtling towards the edge. He just needs—the friction of his cock against Rin’s stomach is nothing short of frustrating, and the thought of getting a hand between them has barely crossed his mind before Rin’s beaten him to it, fingers wrapping around his cock and bringing him off in fast, sloppy jerks.

 

“ _Ngh—_ touch… me—,” Haruka’s voice is leaving him before he’s had the opportunity to filter his thoughts, judgement gone and lying shattered somewhere on the outer edge of his shorted-out mind. It’s all inconsequential right now—the only thing that matters is the pulsing heat driving into him, the coil tightening in his belly—and Rin. He knows his body’s tensing up, can feel how hard he’s clenching down in the pitch and depth of Rin’s moans, like he can feel every single throb of him inside himself. Last spurt, headlong race towards the finish, Rin moves his hand once, twice more, swipes his thumb over the head and that’s _it._  “—Rin!”

 

He’s coming for what feels like an eternity, vision going white for a split second, intensifying when he feels scorching heat spilling into him. He’ll be forever glad it was too much—that he didn’t hear the sounds he made, the sounds that had Rin yanking him close as he could get and sinking his teeth into his shoulder. It’s harder than he’s ever come before, more than he ever thought he could feel. It’s drawn out, agonizingly almost, with each aborted jerk of Rin’s hips until the euphoria ebbs. He opens his eyes slowly, shudders at the aftershock when Rin pulls out, spent cock dragging against his abused inner walls. There’s come inside him, there’s come on his stomach, and it should make him want to run for a washcloth—but when Rin collapses next to him, face up, eyes radiating a warmth that’s so _Rin_ and yet somehow different now, he wants nothing more than to stay. It’s not going to be a relationship of _I love yous_ and grand romantic gestures—from Haruka’s side, at least of that he’s certain, and he can’t promise Rin—well, anything. Not stability or a dream or even a home to come back to. But this—this, as he retrieves the blanket, not bothering with their clothes, and curls up into Rin’s side—this, he can promise. Staying—being by Rin’s side no matter what he does and where he goes, he can swear to.

 

He can do that.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In all seriousness, though, kudos and comments make my day! Please feel free to slaughter me with criticism--I'm serious xD


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